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A COLLECTION OF ARTICLES IN PROSE AND POETRY, COMPRISING 
A SHORT ESSAY ON 



Origin and Destiny f 

Given th.rou.gh. the Mediimiship of 



I 



•w 



1 



IVIES. M. J. WILCOXSON. 



" To live ia hearts we leave behiad is not to die."— Thomas Campbell. 
" 'What I had I gave. Forget the poet, but his warning heed, 
And ehanie his poor word with your nobler deed."— J. G. Whittier. 



CHICAGO: 
RELIGIO-PHILOSOPHICAL PUBLISHING HOUSE, 

S. S. JONES, PROPRIETOR. 



mJ 






u 







(o &Q3A ^D 



A COLLECTION OF ARTICLES IN PROSE AND POETRY, COMPRISING 
A SHORT ESSAY ON 



Origin and Destiny, 



Griven through, the Mledioimship of 



MRS. M. J. WILCOXSON. 



. 



-i 



W 



*' To live in hearts we leave behind is not to die."— Thomas Campbell. 

" What I had I gave. Forget the poet, but his warning heed, 
And shame his poor word with your nobler deed."— J. G. Whittier. 



CHICAGO: 

KELIGIO-PHILOSOPHICAL PUBLISHING HOUSE, 

S. S. JONES, PROPRIETOR. 

1872, 



^ 






Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1872, by 

Mrs. M. J. WILCOXSON, 
in the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington. 



INTRODUCTION. 



Having been many times solicited to publish 
some of tlie poems which have been given to me, 
I made the experiment by sending out those little 
waifs, " The Midnight Prayer" and "The Festi- 
val Mght," and such has been the demand, espe- 
cially for the former, that I am encouraged to 
reprint it, in connection with other poetic produc- 
tions, some of which were first given impromptu 
at the close of nry lectures. Suffice it to say there 
was a time hi which these impromptu poems were 
frequent, and of so marked a character as bearing 
upon subjects suggested by the audience after my 
taking the stand and passing into the inspira- 
tional or entranced condition, that they have 
proven good tests in the minds of many of my 
hearers. Though not knowing, or having the 
faintest idea of what subject might be presented, 
a sort of previous mental illumination would take 
possession of me, in which detached, broken 
clauses and stanzas would sweep across my mind, 
with no consecutive connection, but, on the other 
hand, fragmentary and fractional; and, to my sur- 
prise, I found that when more perfectly under con- 
trol in my public labor, these parts of stanzas, at 
first seemingly disjointed and unsatisfactory, were 
so arranged and filled out as to produce a perfect 



4 INTRODUCTION. 

poem. Being urged to reproduce these effusions, 
I began the experiment alone in my room by call- 
ing upon the same intelligences, invoking the pres- 
ence of these controlling teachers; and though 
there may not always be a complete duplicate, I 
feel that there has been little difference in lan- 
guage, and that the original sentiment or moral 
has been strictly preserved. 

I am satisfied that with proper cultivation of 
mediumistic gifts, great benefit may be secured 
thereby. Important questions, bearing upon the 
welfare of both the medium and the community, 
may be answered by our translated counselors, in 
a manner to avert all uncertainty, and I hail the 
day in. ' the good time coming" when medium- 
ship will stand among "the lively oracles," and 
be protected as it deserves. "NTow, of all things 
Included in the grand school of Human Progress, 
mediumsMp, the principle by which the trans- 
lated reveal themselves, is the least cultivated, the 
most abused, and the most difficult to preserve in 
its purity, of any power which has at last come to 
be recognized in this nineteenth century. Once 
admitted to the magnetic realm, in which the fin- 
est susceptibilities are made to assert themselves, 
it is impossible for the subject to conform as before 
to established usages. 

A new life is awakened. A true medium is 
always behind the scenes. He becomes a non- 
conformist, simply because a magnetic quicken- 
ing is to him what young spring is to old, snow- 
crowned and frosted winter. He is let loose; he 



INTRODUCTION. 5 

must grow. He is taken out of old, conservative, 
ice-bound regions, and put directly under a mag- 
netic sky. Suns and showers become plenteous. 
His old nature is thawing out. He has been run 
in a mould; and now he melts beneath the sun- 
beams of a new life, and commences running out- 
side of moulds! Propriety-loving conservatism 
says it is disastrous, fatal! But his new sun, his 
new sky, his new stars, and all that is xew, as 
reflecting the spontaniety of Nature, who never 
wore a chain, have stamped a new name and a 
new life upon Ms being, and he reflects precisely 
the truth in himself and all things coincident to 
him! He can no longer lie, and that is why he is 
so strange! Whatever his nature is, he acts it. 
Whatever the nature of others, he reflects it. Nor 
is it really optional with him what fraction of the 
universe, either physical or mental, he shall re- 
flect. He is simply a mirror, and the truthfulness 
and value thereof depend upon circumstances. 
And there is often such a refractive, as well as 
reflective quality hi the mirror, that even good ob- 
servers and honest investigators, from ignorance 
of the law, lose the revelation. 

When the possession of mediumship is regarded 
as the link connecting two worlds, and is as well 
preserved as the cable which connects two conti- 
nents — when one-half the care and pecuniary out- 
lay is expended thereon which every grand enter- 
prise demands before it reaches perfection, we 
shall see less failure, and come into possession of 
one of the greatest of all levers in raising the hu- 



6 INTROD UCT10N. 

man race to a true manhood. No matter what it 
may cost us in the way of experiment, no matter 
how much of dross may wrap the atoms of fine 
gold in curtained embrace, the gold is still there, 
and capable of being separated from all the worth- 
less surroundings, and its value is an established 
truth which can not be denied. 

What we need most of all now is, that haying 
the truths of inspiration established, we study how 
to secure the highest perfection and prevent the 
counterfeit circulation from supplanting all confi- 
dence in the genuine. I know that every earnest 
and true medium has been compelled to carry a 
load never lifted by any other soul, and simply 
because it was his burden. It was his or her hon- 
est trial of strength and duty which no other soul 
could carry. It was "his day of judgment, 5 ' in 
which individual merit must be tested, and for 
itself alone. A few, at least, "chosen" from the 
"many called" have, with blistered feet and up- 
lifted eyes, walked the fiery furnace of ordeal with 
no vanity of thought, but with the hope of per- 
fection burned into the deepest grooves of the 
soul! Oh, who will write their tears, their suppli- 
cation, their touching entreaty, their humiliation 
and sorrow for weakness and mistake, as breathed 
in the ears of angels and recorded on the pages of 
truth! How harsh and unrelenting the world of 
mortal judgment, as it passes criticism upon the 
failures of mediums! But compared with the tri- 
umphs of ocean steam-navigation to-day, what a 
stupendous blunder and failure was that little 



INTRO D UCTION. 7 

experiment of Robert Fulton's, wlien at a com- 
paratively snail-like pace he mapped the distance 
in his tiny steamer! And compared with the net- 
work of lightning- wires which now encircle all civ- 
ilized realms nearly, how meaningless and silly 
the school-boy kite of a Franklin with its simple 
glow-worm light, its fire-fly sparks of revelation! 
And still farther, compared with the length and 
breadth, the power and importance of this "West- 
ern Republic in a sanitary and commercial point 
of view, as now related to the great centers of 
trade and government in the old world, how small 
the promises of a Columbus — how rash and profit- 
less the enterprise he engaged in! But while 
"man proposes" "G-od (or eternal truth) dis- 
poses," and " from the acorn grows the towering 
oak," but not more surely than from the hum- 
blest and the meanest of all discoveries bursts 
forth the grandest and the most sublime of all 
revelations! Surely it is not a small thing which 
our dear departed, and the spirits of "the just 
made perfect" have done, in arousing our latent 
reason, and awakening our spiritual nature; and 
though the same sunshine which warms into life 
our choicest plants, gives life to the gross weeds 
of our soul-garden also, let us be vigilant, and 
bravely work on till we find them eradicated. 
The harvest shall in time reward our labors. 



Without regard to distinction of creed or party, 
but with the spirit of fraternal love and confidence 
in the better instincts of the soul, I dedicate this 



8 INTRODUCTION. 

little work to my co-laborers in the field of human 
reform, and cheerfully grant to all dissenters from 
our faith the right to criticise and decide, each for 
himself, and not for another, the claims herein 
presented. Sincerely, 

M. J. Wilcoxsoi^. 



THE -^TIESTJLIL 



Origin and Destiny. 

Probably no subject has in modern times ex- 
cited more inquiry than the origin of the human 
soul, and with all the evidences which go to sup- 
port "the development theory" on the physical 
plane, it will be seen that the real problem of ori- 
gin, as regards the soul itself, is left in obscurity. 
The assumption of the Materialists that soul, or 
spirit, is the result of a certain structural perfec- 
tion, would entirely disprove immortality, for there 
could be in that case no guarantee of future life; 
the soul, or intelligent part, being purely the pro- 
duction of organic conditions. Destroy the con- 
ditions, then, and there is an end to all identity, 
and that which was dearest to us of all things in 
existence is rudely torn from us and forever anni- 
hilated! 

If we follow the " development" theory, it does 
no more than trace the links of origin on the phys- 
ical or fleshly plane. It can no better account for 
the first incipient evidences of sentient life than the 
old Materialistic assertion. It, in fact, traces the 
evidences of origin no farther than the rudiments 
of physical science, and fails to prove the doctrine 
of a future life. For if the oriain of the human 



10 THE VESTAL. 

soul is to be found in the chemical cohesion of 
certain particles of matter, which evolve in that 
combination the principle of life, and a certain 
order or refinement of intelligence, it is self-evident 
that with the disorganization and destruction of 
the body that soul ceases to exist. Thus, while 
matter, in its essential atoms or particles, is known 
to be perfectly indestructible by all the tests of 
chemical science, the soul itself, which is capable 
of analyzing and subordinating matter in all the 
experiments and productions of the laboratory; 
this truly sublime Thought, which evolves science 
in itself, which confronts and subdues the wild- 
ness and stubbornness of uncultivated nature; the 
master-power which tunnels the mountains and 
bridges the chasms; which turns to account both 
fire and flood, launching out upon the once un- 
known ocean its princely palaces of art, and 
throwing across the storm-wrapped waters its cable 
of lightning, annihilating both time and space in 
the velocity of transmission — this grandest of all 
powers, proving identity of character and variety 
of talent, this, to which matter is the raw material, 
the mere clothing, is treated as less than matter, 
over which it asserts its superiority from the cra- 
dle to the grave! 

If matter, then, be indestructible, it must be eter- 
nal, though it be so inferior to the intelligent Soul- 
Power which makes use of it. If eternal, it must 
be self-existent, for that which is eternal could not 
have been created. It had no beginning, and 
therefore, except in the organic or structural, it 



THE VESTAL. 11 

has no ending. As it thus becomes the clothing 
of intelligent Thought, this Thought, or Soul, 
which appropriates and subordinates, must be 
the positive and superior power; while matter be- 
comes to it negative, subjective and receptive. 

Thus, that supreme Life-Principle which speaks 
to us as God or Soul, is found robed in all the 
changing patterns and garbs of Nature, while it 
comes to us in multiplied, countless sentient be- 
ings, of whom man is the highest mundane per- 
fection. 

All this host of intelligent creatures has been 
supposed to have a creation, a beginning, and 
"one fate alike befalleth both man and beast," 
said an ancient philosopher, who had no true con- 
ception of the Immortal Principle. And while we 
can prove beyond dispute the eternity of matter, 
many doubt concerning a future and continuous 
self-hood of the human soul. That which lias 
come to us, spoken to us, loved us, lavished upon 
us the sweetest of sympathies and affections, that 
which has been to us more than sun, and moon, 
and stars; more than all the regal magnificence of 
earthly nobility; more than all the jewels of court 
and crown; more than our food and raiment, our 
name and our only life — that which has been to us 
the bright gateway of the soul itself; which has 
kindled a new fire upon our home-altars; brought 
down the glory of the firmament and enshrined it 
in every beautiful form of art; that which has 
called forth our love, our emulation, our human- 
ity; which has taught us and trusted us, followed 



12 THE VESTAL. 

us and saved us; that kindred soul-principle 
which has been woven into our very life, which 
has asserted its divinity, verified itself to our par- 
tial understanding and our love — surely that ma- 
jestic and sublime Reality must be as immortal 
as the crude material of which it fashions its de- 
caying temples or weaves its fleshly vestment! 

Then, where did the soul exist previous to its 
incarnation in matter? Where shall we find this 
mysterious presence, and what were its antecedent 
conditions? If immortal, how? For if not as self- 
existent and uncreated as matter, we can not prove 
its immortality. 

Our conclusions are predicated not only upon 
philosophy but upon facts. It is a fact that chem- 
ical science has unveiled a world of causes and 
effects before unknown. It is a fact that simple 
intuition has mapped out the locality of an un- 
known continent, as in the case of Columbus. It 
is a fact that men are subject to sight, and sense, 
and hearing, which comes not within the domain 
of the physical; as in the case of Swedenborg, who 
saw at the exact time, the details of a fire hun- 
dreds of miles distant, and entirely beyond the 
scope of the physical senses. Hundreds of cases 
might be cited to prove beyond dispute the exist- 
ence of senses superior to the physical plane. 
These senses take hold upon a new empire — are 
not limited as are the purely material senses, but 
sweep on from the plane of effect to the realm of 
cause. Chemistry can not explain the mystery, 
though it can resolve all kinds and proportions 



THE VESTAL. 13 

of matter from the solid or fluid state to the high- 
est degrees and attenuations of refinement; thus 
changing the qualities and properties thereof 
throughout the whole scale, till it reaches the sub- 
tle realm of spirit, able to grasp it still, and prove 
its indestructibility. But beyond that it can not 
go. The soul itself must possess senses of supe- 
rior potency to those which are dependent upon 
merely material conditions. 

With the awakening of the soul-perceptions, 
which carry us beyond the limitations of finite 
and fallible sense into the empire of cause, we 
may find an answer to the most difficult problems 
which have hitherto baffled inquiry, because we 
dealt with them from the material standpoint. If 
it be true that we possess any one sense like clair- 
voyance, or intuition, by which we take congni- 
zance of things or truths not perceived by the 
physical senses, the principle is established that 
there is within the soul such powers, and reason 
tells us that any power or principle subordinating 
even in degree the world of effects, must be meas- 
ureably superior thereto. The truly illuminated 
or inspired soul must possess such advantages of 
clear perception as that tlie world of coals e may 
be as truly cognized as the world of effect; and 
seeing that eternal harmony must exist between 
cause and effect, the soul, by virtue of its own in- 
trinsic attributes, must eventually be able to ex- 
plain itself. This it partially does in the pro- 
phetic state, unveiling the events of the future, 
and it is not to be doubted that with cultivation, 



14 THE VESTAL. 

or even the liberation of the mind from enslaving 
dogmas, the intuitive or prophetic power would 
become one of the grandest of all aids in explor- 
ing the hitherto untrodden realm of soul science. 

If, under any excitation or activity of the men- 
tal powers, future events may be portrayed, surely 
it must be as natural and legitimate a function of 
the illuminated thought to take cognizance of past 
events; and by what lav/ is this accomplished but 
that of soul-perception? The soul evidently acts 
from the superior or objective plane, while matter 
is acted upon. As matter is self-existent, why is 
not soul likewise? As matter is the clothing in 
which soul arrays itself, it is evident they are co- 
existent. The soul- world may be regarded as the 
empire from which all force proceeds; and as the 
conditions of external life become responsive to 
the laws of the Superior, matter becomes the lan- 
guage by which soul becomes individualized, and 
identity commences. As matter elementally is 
known by its particled or atomic state, so soul is 
first known by its existence as a simple entity, and 
certainly not less immortal than matter, if as inde- 
structible. 

To the illuminated perceptions of the spiritual 
man the spaces of the superior or inner realm 
from which every order of life proceeds to indi- 
vidualize and ultimate itself is a vast ocean of the 
most sublimated and etherealized elements, in 
which float as a part thereof (the same as drops 
are a part of the earthly oceans and seas) these 
countless germs or soul-entities; all of which pre- 



THE VESTAL. 15 

serve the spheric or globular form, and can not 
be seen in any other character previous to their 
inception in an individualized state. When this 
commences, the duality of Being which is always 
■ilustrated by the circle or sphere, being an in- 
nerent principle, is outwrought by Nature' s uner- 
ring law, in the production of an organism which 
shall be the sure exponent of that special order or 
variety of life. In this process Nature always pre- 
serves both the male and female principle, which 
is fundamental to organization and propagation. 
Thus, the soul-entity, or immortal principle, act- 
ing upon matter, secures itself a structure by the 
disposition of all the necessary parts, in which a 
perfect machine, a most complete mechanism, may 
connect it with the world of individualized life. 
Here we find the primal law or principle (as re- 
gards form) the cellular and spheric, is repeated 
throughout the entire structure, the solid parts 
retaining the cellular, the fluid parts retaining the 
spheric or globular. To use the words of another 
writer, "Man is the microcosm, in which the mac- 
rocosm, or greater universe, is illustrated," for 
the reason that his structure is of a higher order, 
and his mind capable of grappling with every 
question and elucidating scientifically every law 
of the universe, granting him full empire for his 
scientific powers. And now we discover the per- 
fect harmony of Being in the complete adaptation 
and equilibrium of the two worlds to each other. 
Here the soul-entity asserts beyond dispute its 
own specific gravity or self-hood, which, as pro- 



16 THE VESTAL. 

ducing character and determining destiny, belongs 
to no other individual in God' s universe. Having 
accomplished this, sooner or later, by casualty, 
disease or age, this now individualized soul passes 
on to higher courts, throwing off the gross garb of 
mortality, now laid aside as a rusty, worthless 
vestment, but retaining the fine silken tissues 
which have been woven into a spiritual body, 
within the material laboratory. How beautiful 
now its career, how grand its flight, if knowing 
itself, and ripened by a cultivated and unfolded 
intellect, it breaks from its chrysalis of mortality 
and speeds on to its glorious home, and enters the 
society of that " innumerable company," those 
great minds over whom superstition and death can 
have no power! Now buoyant with the inspira- 
tions of a higher state it can gaze backward upon 
the rough and stony road of human experience 
with a philosophy and conviction it never knew 
before. It sees how in its grosser, worm-like 
state, the mechanism of that fleeting structure 
was ever in motion, ever with ceaseless throbbings 
and pulsations weaving out the shining web of 
destiny with which the golden shuttle of immor- 
tality beautifies and completes the glorious pat- 
tern of existence. 

Day and night, the seen and the unseen, are but 
the links in one mighty chain of Reality; and to 
press on, with new empires, new Edens before us, 
becomes an inspiring thought which robs our 
fleeting night of its pain and darkness, and studs 
our firmament with the fadeless fires of immortality. 



THE VESTAL, 17 



ANGEL VISITANTS. 
[Written for the Twenty-fourth Anniversary of Modern Spiritualism.] 

0, I hear, I hear the patter, 

As of childish hands and feet — 
On the table, on the carpet, 

On my head, my hands, my seat. 
Drops seem falling o'er my person, 

All as if some joyous sprite 
Would arrest my solemn thinking — 

And I feel a strange delight ! 

What is this ? A tiny rapping — 

Rapping out the tune she loved ! 
Aye, the tune we sang together, 

When we last in wildwood roved ! 
Hear, O hear it ! And she told me 

She would give it as a test, 
Could she come and tell me truly 

Of her home among the blest ! 

Listen ! listen ! O, what music ! 

Coming from the organ-keys — 
Now it rises, now 'tis floating, 

Like a harp upon the breeze. 
All around the room 'tis sweeping. 

How it thrills my feeble soul ; 
Now it seems to grow more distant, 

Upward now it seems to roll ! 

What is that ! A pencil writing — 

Hear it glide along the slate ! 
What delicious spell doth hold me, 

As expectant thus I wait ! 
See, O see ! it is a message, 

Written out before my eyes ! 
'Tis my precious child — my angel, 

Come to give me glad surprise ! 



18 THE VESTAL, 

Listen ! listen ! Do 1 hear her ? 

O, it is my darling's voice ! 
Ah, this is more than I could hope for. 

Shout ! let all the world rejoice ! 
Death is conquered — now victorious, 

O'er the grave the millions rise, 
Pressing on to fairer kingdoms, 

Fairer empires, fairer skies. 

O, what burden now so heavy 

I shall ever more despair ? 
O, what trial now so fiery 

I shall cease the victor's prayer ? 
O, what scoffing now can move me, 

O, what torture make belray, 
As love's golden chain grows tighter, 

Gilding all my future way ? 

Let us cease our childish wailings, 

Wandering amid our tombs ; 
Light fresh fires upon our altars, 

Consecrate our mortal homes. 
Let our lives be pure and worthy, 

Free from bigotry and guile, 
Then our angel friends returning 

Of tener will upon us smile. 

And when called beyond the river, 

We shall bravely mount the arch, 
Where our tried and true companions 

In their love-lives daily march ; 
And with those who went before us, 

We will sing the living word, 
Which in blessing God's dear children, 

Shall by untold hosts be heard. 

Then, O, shout the great salvation, 

Simple rap and murmuring bell ; 
Shout the coming in of heaven, 

Shout the going out of hell ! 
Shout the death of fraud and error, 

Shout the life of every truth ; 
Shout the final resurrection 

Of the soul to endless youth ! 



THE VESTAL. 19 



ODE ON WAR. 

War, war, war ! 
When will his merciless tramp be stilled ! 

When will his roar be bushed ! 
What mountains of manly forms lie chilled, 

Their bones by his engines crushed ! 
When will his scorpion thrusts be stayed, 

And stayed all fhe hellish arts 
By which his victims are constantly flayed 

At this bloody feast of hearts ! 

War, war, war ! 
I am gazing into your valley of bones, 

Created a smiling vale. 
Around it I see all your costly thrones, 

Where you drove on the lovely, the sick and the hale, 
Through fire and blood to your altar of lust, 
Where you made the beautiful lick the dust, 
And famishing millions without a pang 
You smote with the stroke of your cruel fang ! 

War, war, war ! 
I am gazing— gazing into your past ; 

The valley, the valley I see ! 
I am counting the miles that measure the mount 
In that valley of bones, and the peaks I count, 
Where your victims, chained for these countless years, 
Have paid you tribute of blood and tears, 
Till creation groans with the ghastly pyre, 
And the heavens are livid with blood and fire ! 

War, war, war ! 
Thou blasphemous braggart of earthly kings ! 

Thou knave, and coward, and fool ! 
With thy empty titles, thy diamond rings, 

And sceptre of stolen rule ! 
How long hast thou taken that name in vain— 
The God, who hath clothed both valley and plain 
In robes of bloom and harvests of grain ; 
And given in plentiful store each year 
To toiler and tender a bountiful share ! 



20 TUB VESTAL. 

War, war, war ! 
No more may the stolen, the purchased and sold 
Be driven like sheep to your treacherous fold ; 
No more by the lash of your impious power 
Consent to be slaves, or honor your hour, 
In this rush for gold — this lust for a throne, 
Where unnumbered lives are the cost of each stone t 
Thou hast left thy venom on fairest bowers, 
Thou hast trampled our beautiful buds and flowers ! 
Thou hast all these gardens of heavenly fruit 
Turned to a lair for both serpent and brute ! 
Thou hast held in thy craftiness shuttle and loom, 
Scarce finding on earth for thy artifice room ; 
And thus upon ocean, the air and the skies*, 
Thou hast laid thy full tribute, and robed in disguise 
Of cant and pretension, thy infamous might, 
By prating of Justice and promising Right. 

War, war, war ! 
On the mystical waves of the future I see 
When your empire of Moloch shall cease to be. 
Through the curdled clouds and the blackened skies 
I see the fair kingdom of Mercy arise. 
Her ruler, long promised and long sought of men, 
Shall lead the torn nations in union again. 
Through the clashing of sabres and beating of drums 
The sweet strains of Peace to my grieved spirit comes ! 
To the mangled and maimed, from the glory-wrapt sky, 
The angels of God with sweet messages fly ! 
And I try to forget it, or bear the deep groan, 
And the wearying sob of my suffering own ! 
Ah, my own I my own ! For their pains are mine ! 
In this terrible vintage I drink the wine, 
And my heart is torn by this long delay — 
This seeing my noblest the monster's prey I 

War, war, war ! 
Tell me no more of thy conquering crown, 
And thy royal rule, while thy victims drown ; 
Tell me no more of thy roll of Fame — 
I spurn all thy record of sin and shame ! 
Tell me no more of thy millions freed, 
While chained they all are by thy tyrant-creed ! 
Tell me no more thy shallow excuse 



THE VESTAL. 21 

For this shedding of blood — a ruse, a ruse ! 
But, beautiful vision, come nearer still ; 
Flutter thy pennons o'er valley and hill ; 
Bathe in thy radiant glory of Love ; 
Over the ea.gle hold highest thy Dove ! 
Oh, in life's Calvary, comfort each heart, 
Bleeding and gasping 'neath war's flashing dart ; 
Over the battle-ground, over the sea, 
Waft thy still breathings, bid Tyranny flee. 

Come nearer, come nearer— oh, in the death-hour 

Tenderly touch them and charm with thy power. 

Softly and sweetly, like dews of the night, 

Put all these cravings for empire to flight. 

Shatter the golden god's glittering car, 

And lead on to conquest by Mercy's sweet star. 

Beautiful vision, oh, hasten along 

Breathe your glad tidings to earth's weary throng. 

Mould with thy magic the heart of the king, 

Over all rulers thy mystic spell fling ; 

Roll in thy music, till, on its rich notes, 

The banner of Peace in proud victory floats ! 

Then, war, war, war ! 
What shall be left thee but infamous name, 
Echoed by valley, and cloudlet, and stream ? 
While the souls whom thy engines of tyranny braved, 
Shall find on the record their loyalty graved ! 
And thou with thy dotage, thy rattle of bones, 
May grope 'neath the ruins of empires and thrones, 
While the Judge of the heavens shall doom thee to night, 
And bring in his rescued to Freedom and Right ! 



22 THE VESTAL. 



THE MIDNIGHT PRAYER. 

[Note.— I will simply state, for the instruction of my readers, that an intel- 
ligence purporting to be Edgar A. Poe, has a number of times controlled my 
organism, both in the trance and impressional state. I am always in a lucid 
or clairvoyant condition while under such control, and see, or seem to see 
clearly, the pith of the poem. I am as a spectator, or unseen participator in 
the reality which is vividly laid out before me. 

In this superior state, I saw Poe, desponding, and nervously excited, hur- 
riedly start from his boarding-house, with a haggard look and apparent misan- 
thropy, and rapidly walk in the direction of a bar-room. A beautiful boy of 
about eight or ten years, to whom he was devotedly attached in his sober mo- 
ments, followe I upon his track. Without speaking to the child, but seeming 
anxious to escape him, he rushed on, and soon the potent draught was doing 
its work of discipline. The faithful boy, with tender, sad solicitude, kept 
just in the back-ground, following the aimless footsteps of the unfortunate 
poet through all their meanderings, from point to point, till darkness crept 
down upon the city, &nd the busy throng of human life began to retire to their 
homes. 

Lost alike to the love and hate of mortals, the poor inebriate sought with 
failing footsteps a lone path, which led up a hill- side in the suburbs of the' me- 
tropolis, and at last sunk upon the ground. The wearied but devoted child 
still pursued the wanderer, and as soon as unconsciousness wrapped with, its 
mantle the stricken man, he noiselessly crept io his side and laid himself on 
love's sweet, sacred altar, beneath the smiling stars of midnight. There, with 
his fair and tearful face pressed to the burning cheek of the wanderer, his dim- 
pled hands clasp. d around the neck of the poet, both slept. At last the throes 
of returning consciousness and reason in the man, rolled off the sleeping sen- 
tinel, whose saving, trusting child-love is here set to the mu?ic of angels, and 
sends its burning appeal up to the high altar of every true soul.] 

Once, in my madness, when mortals deserted me, 

Once, in delirium, all prone on the pave, 
Once when the Furies seduced, and then thwarted me, 

In wild laughter shrieking beside my lone grave ; 
Once, when conceited souls scornfully jostled me, 

Sped their fire-arrows of fury and hate, 
Once, when to hell they condemned and then hustled me, 



THE VESTAL. 23 

They, my betrayers, appointing my fate ; 
When the night-curtains all lovingly shielded me, 

And the Star-Angels let down their sweet light, 
When the deep silence crept up and enfolded me, 

And mother Nature wept tears at the sight ; 
That once, when I thought that only God pitied me, 

And all had forsaken and left me to die, 
In the black darkness of passion that crowded me, 

Something aroused me, wilh deep sobbing sigh ! 

Then, in the darkness I looked for intruder. 

Wondered if any dear Savior was near, 
Thought of meek woman as once I had viewed her, 

Thought of my mother, though absent, so dear ; 
Longing for rescue, and cursing my destiny, 

Cursing the shams of a Judas-like age, 
Cursing the sins of professional piet", 

Dealing the hemlock to poet and sage. 
Moments were ages, eternities burdened me, 

Life with its pages confounded and frightened me ; 
Life was a riddle, and I was expounder, 

Never a problem unsolved or profounder, 
Than in this crucible chased and confronted me, 

Just as I lay on the Lethean shore — 
Thus did my reason from prison just loosened, 

Like a free bird scan the great evermore. 

But, as my reason returned, some intruder 

Kept breaking the stillness with deep sobbing sigh ; 
And it strung my lone harp which the Ghouls had beat rudely, 

With the mystical loves of the angels on high ; 
Just then a sweet breath like the odors of Aiden, 

Far sweeter than fragrance of Orient gale, 
Fell full on my forehead, like vow of a maiden, 

Or love of a mother, which never doth fail. 
And then a bright meteor arched with its silver light 

The dewy wet couch where still passive I lay, 
Revealing a watcher who into the midnight, 

Had clung to "poor Edgar" when men turned away. 
There, chiseled in sorrowing, but radiant feature, 

His damp locks all curling around his fair brow, 
Lay Willie, companion, and watcher, and preacher — 

And night was the altar, and speechless the vow ! 



24 THE VESTAL. 

Methought that in heaven his spirit was pleading — 

So calm and so still lay that cherub-like form, 
And that he had breathed his last life-breath upon me, 

And leaped to the land where there's never a storm ! 
Methought that last heart- sob had broken the heart-strings 

And let the poor dovelet return to the skies ; 
And I fancied I saw how it beat with its freed wings 

The measureless space of its own native skies. 
And I fancied I heard how his holy petition 

Went up to my Father that I migLt return — 
And then all the archways of heaven, in vision, 

Were lit by the love-lamps that ceaselessly burn. 
And loud alleluiahs, all answering his pleadings, 

Swept down the broad spaces, and filled the grand aisles, 
And soothed with their baptism my lone heart and bleeding, 

And struck low the Tempter, and scattered his wiles ! 

childhood, I bless thee ! wherever thou strayest, 
Thou dost gather the buds of affection most rare — 

Not in pitiless tones or cold censure thou prayest ; 
That heart- sob in sleep is the mightiest prayer ! 

1 have heard the proud pharisee follow the litany- 
Listened when thousands were chanting in praise ; 

But that lute-soul that lay in the deep starry midnight 

Beside his u poor Edgar," has drowned with his lays 
All the mocking and cantings of empty profession, 

And taught me to cover the wounds of my race, 
And anoint them with spikenard, however so costly, 

And follow the erring through every disgrace ! 
Yea, follow ; till midnight shall break into morning, 

Till a heart-sob shall melt the misanthrope's chain, 
And unbar all the doors, with its love and its warning, 

Which ever have held the poor sufferer in pain ! 



THE VESTAL. 25 



THE YOUNG MARTYR. 

[Note.— The public can not have forgotten the intense excitement which 
prevailed a few brief years since, in consequence of the cruel and merciless act 
of that poor, deluded bigot, Rev. Mr. Lindsley, who whipped his little son to 
death, because the child would not say his prayers, in obedience to the com 
pulsory command of his infatuated father. The following poem is intended to 
preserve as a future warning, this sorrowful drama in the history of modern 
Orthodoxy.] 

A strain of music caught my ear, 
A strain devoid of mortal fear, 
A strain that 'rose in warblings clear, 
Upon the summer air. 

A vine-clad bower met my eye — 
Birds flitted in that summer sky, 
Or soared aloft on pinions high, 

And Nature seemed all fair. 

Beyond, the gray old mountains stood 
All reverent in silent mood, 
Ajid just anear, the grand old wood 
Bore royally its crown. 

The busy hum of countless forms 
Sipping from Nature's honeyed charms, 
So free from tortures and alarms, 
Made glad my soul. 

But o'er that sweet melodious strain 
Which swept 'round Nature's sacred plain, 
A sure emollient for all pain, 
One voice uprose. 

A golden -haired, a meek-eyed child 
Roamed out in Nature's sunny wild, 
And then awoke that joyous wild 

With music all his own ! 



26 THE VESTAL. 

Birds chattered as they heard their song 
.Repeated by that mimic tongue, 
And hid the rich green leaves among, 
To watch the mocking elf. 

Winds raised with fingers all unseen 
The golden locks which veiled that brain, 
Then tenderly let fall again 

Those tresses rare. 

All Nature seemed to be at peace, 
And that young soul, so full of peace, 
iJid marvelous her power increase, 
On that fair day. 

He bent above the clover-cups, 
And perfumed bells where insect sups, 
And caught ihe rainbow in the drops 
Of beaded dew. 

He turned the hard and rounded stone 
To find the ant at buried throne, 
And hummed the beetle's monotone, 
While stooping there. 

Then up he sprang and sought the sky — 
The purpie clouds went wheeling by — 
He saw the shallows swifter flv, 

Aud mocked their lays. 

From the black cloud the thunder rolled— 
Still jovous, he the warning told, 
As from his soul the power uprolled, 
In childish bass. 

He saw a weary pilgrim sink 
Beside the swift, stream's mossy brink, 
And call aloud for cooling drink, 
While fainting there. 

From grotto near he snatched a shell, 
And plunged it in the running well, 
Then at the old man's feet he fell ! 

u Drink, Father, drink ! " 



THE VESTAL. 27 

" Come home with me and share my bread, 
And you shall have my trundle-bed, 
And rest you there this weary head, 
And I will watch !" 

But now the noonday hours had sped, 
The thunder-cloud was overhead, 
And suddenly I heard a tread, 
And loudest call. 

Out from a shaded, latticed porch, 
Peered a sharp face in earnest search, 
And birds looked down from loftiest perch, 
With curious eye. 

Then harshly rang that parent's voice, 
And prated of his priestly choice, 
Declaring liberty a vice, 

And crime most damnable ! 

"Come, say your prayers, my wicked son — 
Say the commandments, one by one ; 
Now for these truant hours atone ! " 
Speechless the child ! 

" Speak, child, 'tis time to go to bed ; 
Speak, or God's judgment overhead 
May number you among the dead, 
This very night ! 

Repeat with me, and say you've sinned ; 
Confess to God that you have sinned, 
Or you shall go with those who've sinned 
To deepest hell ! 

Speak now, I say, before I strike — 
Before the hand of God doth strike f 
Thou stubborn thing, so devil-like ! " 
"I can not, father, dear ! 

Father, I've prayed with birds and flowers, 
I've prayed iu Nature's temple-bowers — 
Vve prayed with all that bless the hours, 
But can not pray the creed ! 



THE VESTAL. 

I do not love those cruel prayers 
That cursed my first, my rosy years ! 
I have repeated all my prayers 
To God this day." 

" Blasphemer, devil, heretic ! " 

Then came a shower of blows so thick, 

With demon cursings, that the click 

Of moments could not part them ! 

Fainting, the youthful martyr fell, 
As dire command and hideous yell, 
The breath of superstition's hell, 
Smote him in death ! 

O bigotry ! this is thy work, 
And thou hast plunged thy bloody dirk 
To heart of Christian, heart of Turk, 
By right canonical ! 

Thou hast provoked the people's ire ; 
The world of judgment is on fire, 
And Season's truth shall never tire : 
Prepare, prepare ! 



If thou wouldst be happy, preserve a clear conscience, and a healthy 
body, as a pure and fitting abode for the soul. Keep thy own sanc- 
tuary inviting, and it may prove to thee a paradise of peace, when 
war rages without. He who seeks happiness outside of his own re- 
sources must be doomed to disappointment ; but he who appropri- 
ates that which lies within, is always supplied. 

To cultivate a conscience void of offense toward all men, let us 
weigh our own faults against our neighbors' virtues, instead of weigh- 
ing our own virtues against our neighbors' faults. M. J. W. 



THE VESTAL. 29 



IN THE CRUCIBLE. 

[Note.— The following poem is based upon facts. A lady of fine native tal- 
ent and many prepossessing qualities, formed an uncontrollable attachment for 
a clairvoyant physician of eminent skill and celebrity. This attachment on her 
part took on the character, ere long, of the most intensified love, and so enthu- 
siastic was ehe in his praise, using all her efforts to secure patients for him, that 
no common observer could fail to detect her expectations for the future. In 
the midst of this prospective bliss a difference arose between the parties ; and, 
chagrined and disappointed above measure, the lady soon formed a matrimo- 
nial alliance with another man. 

From the hour of the quarrel above mentioned, this woman and her married 
accomplice lost no opportunity to vilify, malign, hunt and persecute her for- 
merly idolized friend, the doctor. With the most persistent effort, she 
sought to destroy his practice, his reputation, and his very life, by the most 
artful and infamous falsehood that ever fouled a woman's lips. In time, the 
physician married the daughter of this woman's sister, a loving, gentle and de- 
voted creature, whoso friendship for the doctor was doubtless quickened into 
love by the most cruel and unreasonable retaliation of her aunt. And now, 
true to the spirit of vindictive hate, which had, viper-like, poisoned the very 
currents of her life, this wc man continued her persecution, if possible, with 
more relentless fury than before, regardless of the feelings of his young and 
beautiful wife, whom she also distressed and persecuted by her most unfeel- 
ing conduct. At last, the young wife fell into hereditary consumption, and 
peacefully passed to the higher life, soon to be followed by her loved compan- 
ion, who was then a confirmed invalid, and convalescing from an almost fatal 
sickness. Sweet words of forgiveness wreathed the lips of the crucified, as she 
pleasantly and calmly breathed her parting blessing upon her husband and 
mother, to whom she had left a legacy of love and devotion seldom equaled. 
It was at this uncture that disappointed love, now mad and drunken with in- 
dulgence, held its last high carnival! Regardless of every holy tie, insensible 
to every womaaly instinct, this poor infatuated monomaniac incited her miser- 
able tools to the work of desecration, and for nothing better than the paltry 
gratification of her diabolical revenge ! 

A lawless farce was enacted at the last resting-place of that peaceful form, 
and with the sombre pines of the grave -yard whispering rebuking gighs in the 
ears of the guilty resurrectionists, the holy silence was thus invaded by these 
pitiless conspirators, in the person of her husband and a medical attendant 



30 THE VESTAL. 

whom lie liad duped! It is needless to say that the wicked plot failed most 
signally, only in that it left a foul, an ineradicable stain upon the lives of these 
most unfortunate criminals! 

The poem purports to be spoken by the bereaved mother of the young and 
faiihful wife,] 

Once I had a sister, beauteously fair, 

Eoses on her plump cheeks, sunbeams in her hair ; 

Like a lamb she gamboled 'round me in her play. 

How I loved that sister only God can say ! 

How I watched her motions, planned for future time, 

Thought when I was older, how' I'd set to rhyme 

All her childish graces, all her blooming love, 

Mingled with the vexing of my little dove ! 

When she laughed and frolicked rills went laughing too, 
Hills and mountains rolicked in their vernal hue ; 
When she fell to grieving, tear-drops clothed in night 
All my world of beauty, once so grand and bright ; 
When in sweetest singing all her tones were strung, 
How their rising echoes heaven's music sprung ; 
And I drank in power from that melting voice, 
Fori knew that angels did with me rejoice. 

Yes ! one cradle rocked us, and one pair of arms 
Lovingly wound 'round us, shielding from alarms ; 
One gray roof above us, locked in sweet embrace, 
Slept we on one pillow, nestling face to face. 
The blushing rose and lily were never half so fair 
As my beauteous sister, sunbeams in her hair. 
Never woodland songster soothed me with such spell, 
As the childish warblings that from her ripe lips fell ! 

Years rolled on all swiftly, duties led apart ; 
Could I think a cobra was hatching in that heart ! 
Know a deadly serpent could slide into my bower — 
Steal into our cradle — crush with, such a power ? 
Seed of direst envy sprouted in her way, 
And I could not check it, or its trespass stay ! 
Heartless were its growers, tending it with care, 
Parasite so deadly, blasting love so fair ! 

So it kept on creeping, coiling 'round that life, 
With its tendrils weaving mean excuse for strife. 



THE VESTAL. 31 

I tried to think that reason had tottered on its throne, 

Tried to think repentanee would in time atone — 

Years rolled on ; I, lonely, trod my destined path, 

Sealed my lips in silence, stayed unworthy wrath; 

Angels came and cheered me, wiped my tears away, 

Pointed to the Faithful guarding all my day ; 

Bade me seek a city, refuge of the soul, 

"Where the bells of welcome sweetest thinnings toll, 

So I sought to follow, burdened mortal I, 

Drank in words of promise f.orn dwellers in the sky ! 

» 
Ere this, tender blossoms, quite as fresh and fair 
As my early sister sunbeams iu her hair, 
Had Liin upon my bosom, drawn their life from mine, 
Made me feel how truly all children are divine. 
I saw them swift maturing, and rich, concordant notes, 
Like angel music lingering, like song that 'round us floats, 
Had made me feel the virtue and worth of life below — 
This happened ere my sister did envious from me go. 

But of the cause be silent ; O pen of mine forbear ! 

And help me, blessed angels, as si'.ently to bear ! 

It is enough to know it — how, held by envy's chain, 

A child of God, immortal, can forge such dirk of pain ! 

For shall I e'er forget it, the stab I then received, 

When they said, U A sister did it," and I so late bereaved? 

Three days of mortal anguish, such as no pen can write, 

When reason quivered, faltered, and I swung from depth to height ! 

I gazed upon the heavens, holding my broken heart, 

With the pointed dagger in it — that sharp and fiery dart ! 

Moments to ages swelling, crowded the bursting rain, 

Closer, and closer, and closer — and prayer was all in vain. 

Like mariner benighted, I looked for one ray of morn ; 

One sign of love in that yawning crime— it grinned like a fiend in 

scorn : 
And like a wild commingling, all sounds below, above, 
Seemed whirling on in chaos, and the dagger deeper drove I 

The mountains reeled and staggered as if they felt my grief, 
The ocean gathered up its waves and hid each fatal reef ! 
My outer senses failed me in that hour of agony, 
When Nature seemed to Lft her voice and shout my spirit free ! 



82 THE VESTAL. 

While groans from out her great heart shook the web of things away, 
And instincts stirring in my soul, her tongue did best portray ! 
Above, she spread her glory, as if to lull and charm 
M> storm-tossed being back to peace, my dying trust make warm. 

Ail here seemed dread confusion, except one lonely spot, 

"Where Envy stood o'er my Beautiful, with shining blade so hot ; 

The precious clay, so passive ; but grief in her streaming eyes, 

Close stood the loosened spirit, and pointed to the skies ! 

Th. re, countless souls were bending, wonder in their gaze, 

Pity in their holy hearts, sorrow in their ways — 

The dread, dread woe went over, the black cloud drifted along, 

And my Beautiful Child stood foremost, one of that martyr-throng. 

Shepoirtedme "higher, higher,' , to the courts of the Faithful and 

True; 
Another went " Guilty" from me, on the cloud of leaden hue ! 

A calm from the court celestial swept down upon my soul, 

A c-ilm from the golden glory in soft waves touched my soul ! 

I sanii in that sick slumber with the angels all around, 

Soothing with costly ointment, the deep, the ghastly wound ! 

How long my spirit tarried in sweet, unconscious bliss, 

I may never know in that world, can never know in this ; 

But when I woke to mem'ry, this Old world was the New, 

And lives were all laid open — I read them, false or true! 

The wheel with its cruel grinding, the steel with its poison dart, 

H id opened the soul's strong portals, unveiled each curtained heart. 

I saw the art of piercing in all its deadly guise, 

Like serpent in the cradle, coils near to fairest skies ; 

And I rose from that Gehenna, with a purpose true and strong, 

To strangle the viper, Envy ; and crush the demon, Wrong; ! 

Now may the solemn dirges clothing this wounded heart, 

Boll on in notes of warning, where'er the tear-drops start, 

And raise to firm rebuking, a world so long oppressed, 

Till the tongue shall feel its taming, and the hunted soul have rest ! 

The stars will set in darkness, though dazzling be their rays, 

And Genius stoop, unworthy, though sweetest be its lays ; 

The fairest hand strike keenest, the softest tongue destroy, 

And seldom is the metal without ts base alloy ! 

But the Hate of thwarted woman can coin a life-long lie, 

To gash her bleeding victims, nor stop it when they die ! 

The more she's foiled in purpose, more frenzied grows her art ; 

A stone she treads on lightly, but stamps upon a Heart ! 



THE VESTAL. 33 

I mean no wrong to woman — she is my dearest friend, 
But tell me how an angel can stoop to be a fiend ! 
Oh ! tell me how the lovely fall from such high estate, 
To hunt, and tear, and torture, with sting of scorpion hate ! 



THE MAGDALEN. 

[Given under the inspiration of Edgar A. Poe.] 

In the Monumental City, 

Where the angel hearts take pity 
On God's feeble lambs there slaughtered, 
On His homeless lambs there quartered ; 

Where the races meet in sadness, 

And the mob once drank, in madness, 
Patriot blood — 

In that place of fanes and towers, 

Cenotaphs and sacred bowers, 
Noble virtues, burning hate, matins early, orgies late. 
Wealth and fashion, truth and passion, 
Once I stood. 

It was night ; the lamps were gleaming, 
And the struggling stars were beaming 

Through a cloud. 
Grave and gay *vere rushing past me, 
When a something ostled, pushed me, 

Groaned aloud ; 
And a slender, fragile being 
Stood before me — checked her fleeing. 

O, that sweet impassioned face, 

O, that look of angel grace ! 
But so ^an, so wild, so tearful ! 
At her glances something fearful 



34 THE VESTAL. 

Threw its shadow 'cross my path ; 
And I clasped the hapless being, 
Plainly by the lamplight seeing 

" Outcast " on her marble brow ! 

White her robes as driven snow, 
She was rushing toward the river, 
Where the lamplight shadows quiver — 
This her path ! 

" Oh, for God's sake, human brother, 
Tell me, have you known a mother- 
Have you known one as no other ? " 

Thought I of my loved Lenore ! 
Soothed I then her wild emotion, 
Beating like the troubled ocean, 
'Neath the storm-cloud all commotion, 

Beating, beating on the shore. 
Spoke I kindly, for my reason 
Oft betrayed by human treason, 
Sore betrayed by mortal treason, 

'Rose above the passion-bowl. 
In that lone and hapless being, 
Unto death and darkness fleeing, 
In her desperation fleeing, 

I beheld a woman-soul ! 

Then the claspings of my mother, 
My true-hearted, angel mother, 
And the pleadings of another 

I had loved, as none can tell ! 
Cradle hymns and morning kissings, 
Drove away the serpent hissings, 
Hushed the demon cobra hissings, 

Of my later hell ! 
Bowed I then as to an angel, 
Stood before my soul's evangel, 
For a woman was the angel 

Who had ever faithful been, 
When the tempter lured me onward, 
When the furies dragged me downward, 
When the harpies hurled me downward, 

Into whirling depths of sin ! 



TEE VESTAL. 35 



Yes, I bowed before the woman ! 
Promised God to be a true man- 
Took her trembling hand in mine, 
While she shook with childish sobbings, 
And the sympathetic throbbings 

Of my pitying for this vine, 
With its vernal foliage fading, 
With its finest tendrils wading 

' Into crime, 
Made it seem an hour of judgment, 
When the gods all meet in judgment, 
When the stones cry out in judgment, 
On a nation's crime ! 

Then did inspiration fire me ; 
Life with honors could not hire me ; 
Oman's treasures could not buy me ; 
Satan with his gifts might try me ; 
With his flashing gems invite me ; 
Send his hounds of hate to bite me ; 
Scandal's crew to steal my name : 
Soil my garments with his shame ! 
I was deaf ; 

Deaf to all but love and truth ! 

Deaf to all but woman's truth ! 

I could only hear the woman, 
While her life-notes, superhuman, 

Mingled with professioned pity 

In that monumental city, 
Where the human tide kept beating, 
Now advancing, now retreating — 

Beating, beating, beating, beating, 
Every phase of madness meeting 

On that passion-haunted shore. 
With the Magdalen before me, 
Other angels hovered o'er me ; 
One who ia sore trava.l bore me, 
Never ceased her vigils o'er me, 

And my sainted, sweet Lenore I 

Then I swore before the altar, 
God's high throne and holy altar, 



36 THE VESTAL. 

With a faith which can Dot falter, 
I would break this chain and halter, 

Which makes man a slave , 
Steals his reason, drowns his pity, 
Sends him reeling through the city, 

To a drunkard's grave ; 
Freezes all his finer feelings, 
Checks the sacred springs of healing ; 
With a subtle calculation 
Of the cost of each libation, 
Counts the paltry silver pieces 
Which from woman's hand it fleeces, 
Robbing her of home and virtue, 
Giving lust for angel virtue, 
Leaving blight, disease and shame, 
With the brand of harlot name ! 

Though the bitter tide rolled o'er me, 
And to drunkard's grave they bore me, 
Now the voice of gentle woman, 
Now the form of pitying woman, 

Are the means by which I speak : 
And I pray you, human brother, 
By the sacred name of "brother," 
By the holy name of "mother " 
By your soul-love and no other, 
Help me rend this chain and halter — 
Let us never, never falter, 

Till its power we break ! 



THE SIBYL'S WARNING. 



[ The reading public are well in'ormed of the present movement of the Or- 
thodox church in this country, by which it demands the mutilation of our Con- 
stitution and the utter destruction of our "inalienable right" to the exercise 
of private thought and judgment, independent of all ecclesiastical authority. 



THE VESTAL. 37 

This " right " has proven the key-note of our Republican system, the axis upon 
which its whole machinery swings, as forever defying and preventing the sub- 
ordination of the secular to any sectarian power. That the High Church of 
An. erica, both Catholic and Protestant, has been biding its time, determined to 
undermine and subvert the principles of our immortal charter, viz, Freedom of 
the religious thought, and Universal Toleration, no one can longer deny. At 
last, " the logic of events " has proven it. 

A scheme which Catholicism had scarcely dared to whisper outside of its 
synods one hundred years ago, it has now unblushingly blurted in the faces of 
free-born Americans for the last ten years, and wi h the most astonishing self- 
conceit and impudence, considering that it owed its foothold, its wealth and 
influence here upon republican soil, to the very system of toleration it now so 
loudly condemns! But strong in its increase of wealth and concentration of 
numbers, it has boldly and truthfully declared itself; and as an illustration, 
we refer you to an important work by J. S. Yan Dyke, A. M., " Popery, the 
Foe of the Church and the Republic," a copy of which should be in every 
nousehold of our land, as a true compilation and d'gest of Catholicism in Amer- 
ica. Free schools, a free press, and a free conseLnce, are here shown to be 
among the most execrable of all things to the Papacy—" that fatal license of 
which we can not entertain too much horror."— [Pope Pius.] " I would rather 
a half of the people of this nation should be brought to the stake and burned, 
than one man should read the Bible and form his judgments from its con- 
tents."— [From " The Freeman's Journal" in Popery, page 267.] How then, 
in the case of other literature, radically liberal? 

" Liberty of conscience is an absurd and dangerous maxim." " Laymen have 
nothing to do but to hear and submit."— ["Popery," page 268.] "Protestants are 
not to inquire whether the Catholic church is hostile to ciul and religious lib- 
erty, or not." "If the Papacy be founded in divine light, it is supreme over 
whatever is founded only in human right, and then your institutions should be 
made to harmonize with it, and not it ivith your institutions " "Liberty of 
conscience is unknoiun to the Catholics. The ivord ''Liberty ' should be banished 
from the domain of religion. It is neither more nor less than a fiction to say 
that a man has the right to choose his own religion "—["Popery," page 249.] 
" The rebellion of priests is not treason, for they are not subject to civil gov- 
ernment."— [Ibid, page 246.] " It is the duty of the Roman Catholic church to 
compel heretics, by corporeal punishment, to submit to her faith "—[Dens' 
Theology, a Catholic text-book.] " Heretics, who are forgers of the faith, are 
justly punished with death."— [St. Thomas, in "Popery."] " Let the public 
school system go to where it came from— the devil." — [Freeman's Journal, 
Dec. 11, 18b9.] " This couDtry has no other hope, politically or mor fly, ex- 
cept in the vast and controlling extension of the Catholic religion."— [Free- 
man's Journal.] "It will be a glorious day for the Catholics in this coun ry, 
when under the blows of justice and morality our school system will be shiv- 
ered to pieces. Until then, modern Paganism will triumph." — [ Catho.ic Tel. 

In view of the undeniable assumptions of the Papacy in these United S ates, 
it is the more surprising, that by means of a Protestant Union, the Orthodox 
church of America should seek to accomplish just what the Romish church 
most of all desires, as the first step toward the union of the spiritual and ci\il 



38 THE VESTAL. 

powers in this country. Though Catholicism is known to be the deadly foe of 
Protestantism, the American church (Orthodox), in its i ash zeal to arrest the 
spread of Heterodoxy or Ra ionalism, had planted itself at last before the h.gh 
court of this nation, djmanding the surrender of all that is truly republ can, by 
the insertion of clauses intended to compel subserviency to its own creed, and 
rob all hooest dissenters of their equ .1 rights be. ore the law. We quote from 
the words of F. E. Abbot, editor of The Index, Tol do, Ouio, Feb. 10th, 18T2: 
"If the proposed changes ate ever made in trie Coustitut > n, their necessary 
result wi'd be to prevent all persons, ei cept Chris ian believers, from holding 
any office, civil or military, under the American Government. No honest be- 
liever in the newly incorporated doctrine > will be able to take the oath of alle- 
giance required from all United States official •$ and soldie s. Only C ristian 
believers and dishonest disbelievers will be able to take it; consequently tne 
ent.re power of the government, both political and military, will be constitu- 
te nal y concentrated in th j hinds of those who believe, or profess to believe, 
the doctrines thus incorporated. Whether intended now or rot, oppressive 
persecution mubt be the consequence of the adoption of the proposed amend- 
ment. Persecution will growli«.e a cancvr in the body politic just as soon 
as the coveted inequality of religious rights once poisun? its blood. The 
movement in which taose men *.re engaged* has too many elements of strength 
to be contemned by any far-seeing liberal. Blindness or slagg shness to-day 
means slavery to-morrow. Radicalism must pass now from thought to ac- 
tion, or it will deserve the oppression that lies in v\ait to overwhelm ic." 

Utter* y blind seemingly, to the formidable growth and pover of the Roman 
Catholic chur.Ji in this country, these Irotestant descendants of the Puritans, 
whj fie i from religious intolerance and oppressi n in the Old World, are now 
first to initiate that Same hieiarchy of Church and State from which they fled 
only about two hundred and fLty years ago; and the '* heresy" of free thought 
has become almost as hateful to them as to the bloody Montford of ancient 
inquisitorial celebrity ! Couched in the artful drapery of soft words and pious 
entreaty, as is the memorial of this party, signed by leading b, shops, j .dges 
and ex-officers all over our land, we can not but plainly discover th • jeweled 
blade which may at one fell blow strike at the heart of America a Liberty, and 
usl.er in the most fearful war of modern history. And while in all con >. entions 
and synods of the recent 1 rotestaut u Cnureu union," gieat stress is laid upon 
41 the dangerous increase of infidelity " — bk the necessity of combining, in order 
to become a power for the suppression of Rationalism, Spiritualism,** etc., how 
can these foolhardy violators of o..r royal charter fail to see what t e bitter end 
musi be, and that they are not less heretical t * the Roman Catholic church, 
than the Ratiot ali sts of this coun ry are to them? "lheu, wh ,n they decPre 
" the time has c me to put down u,is her sy "" of free tnou^i t, this infideji y 
in our land, let thvm not forget there is another Lon in the way, which may 
walk into the f Id they so ruthlessly t^row wide open and con.-ign them also 
t > the aPar of sacrifice! In earnest entreaty and iaithful obedience to the 
spirit of prophecy, we present to all who dare betray the sacred cause of Hu- 
man Lioeity, the Sibyl's warning. 

* The National Convention, to secure the religious amendment of tie United 
States Coiit-tiiiitinn, held in Thorns' Hall, Cincinnati, Wednesday, Jan. 31st, 
and Thursday, h eb, 1st, 1872.] 



THE VESTAL. 39 

Come on ! we're ready for the fray, 
And know who wins in freedom's day. 
The flames of Salem light again 
Upon Columbia's battle-plain ! 

We've made the British lion roar 
In echoes kissing all our shore ; 
Americans can drown the tea 
Which costs too much for liberty ! 

Come on ! with Mather in the van, 
The fires of Smithfield 'round us fan ; 
We live to die, and die to live, 
That higher freedom we may give. 

Import some inquisition grand, 
And gag the thinkers of our land ! 
Ha ! do you know that millions bold, 
Will seige the tyrant in his hold ? 

Come on ! we give you oil and wine, 
The vintage pure of Freedom's vine, 
Whene'er ye give us freedom too; 
But this deny, the cost ye'll rue ! 

We've done with priestly art and lies — 
We spurn its cunning and disguise ! 
Our right to speak we will defend, 
And heaven will fresh power send ! 

Come on ! the martyred souls above 
Are standing by us with their love ; 
And now we face the tyrant Creed, 
And bid the living gospel speed ! 

We'll bear it with a stronger hand, 
Since Judas with his Roman band, 
Has sought to crucify our Lord, 
And now denied the living word ! 

Come on ! my people long distressed, 
By robbers stealing from your nest ; 



40 THE VESTAL. 

Remember all those long crusades, 
Which cursed the earth with u holy " raids ! 

Remember all the yokes and chains 
Which made men cattle on the plains, 
And beasts of burden, everywhere ! 
Did they "the loaves and fishes " share? 

No, no ! the crumb and hardened crust, 
And often into prison thrust ! 
The starving family at home — 
The fairest in the early tomb ! 

The last cow taken for the rent — 

The homeless to the mountain sent, 

To find rest in its friendly caves, 

Which Popes transformed to crowded graves ! 

Great God ! shall I, a mortal, cease 
To raise my voice at this increase 
Of Bigotry upon the soil 
So crimsoned by the blood of toil ? 

So lately washed to free the slave, 
By blood of fathers, brothers brave ! 
And now the gem that tempts a foe 
Who always gave the deadliest blow ? 

Shall Freedom be to us a name, 
And history write our nation's shame ? 
Shall foes blot out our sacred stars, 
And usher in the olden wars ? 

The answer comes from hill and dale, 
From ocean, where our navies sail ; 
It comes from whirring wheel and band, 
And countless looms throughout our land ! 

It comes from ringing scythe and blade, 
Whose voices echo through the glade ; 
It comes from massive ribs of steel, 
Which bind our old ship's heavy keel ! 



THE VESTAL. 41 

Our Ship of State, equipped and manned 
By free-born thinkers of this land, 
Will yet outride the storm of Craft, 
Which goes to war in open raft ! 

From Lexington and Bunker Hill 
Grand memories will our spirits thrill, 
And stalwart forms in magic rise 
From every land beneath the skies ! 

Ho ! proud invader, ours the blood 
Sent down from where the Fathers stood — 
Our heroes, Jefferson and Paine, 
And Washington, of royal name ! 

And them ye owe for all this might, 
Ye have enjoyed by common right — 
But touch our charter, that despise, 
Ye tempt the watch of countless eyes ! 

Connive, with oily words and bland, 
Insist you would "protect " the land ; 
Talk of "the great increase of sin," 
And urge it, till your aim ye win ! 

Your Sumpter sound across the sea — 
Awake the armies of the free ; 
Ha ! have ye seen from whence they come, 
When heaven decrees your final doom ? 

Up from the dungeon and the fire — 
The millions ye have robbed of hire ! 
Out from the furnace and the mills — 
Out from the rocks, and woods, and hills ! 

The blood which flows in freemen's veins 
Is ripening like the fruits and grains ; 
Our common schools, our common laws, 
Have bound us in one Common Cause ! 

Touch but the meanest son of all, 
Because he thtxks, and you shall fall ! 



43 THE VESTAL. 

Millions of souls will swear your doom, 
And find for its fulfillment room ! 

So do not rashly tempt the Fates, 
And rouse these just and fiery hates ! 
We give you warning — heed it not, 
The conflict will be fierce and hot ! 

Nor will it cease, till all your chains, 
Are banished from Columbia's plains, 
And you are shorn of priestly pride, 
And will our royal oath abide ! 

This oath to free, and not enslave — 
Make self-reliant, truly brave ; 
Rescue the mind from creedish thrall, 
And make wise thinkers of us all ! 



LOVE AND LUST— THE DIFFERENCE. 

Love is lasting, lust is shifting, 

All unrest and ever drifting; 
Love adores and saves its object, 

Lust would make all virtue subject. 
Love subordinates low feeling, 

Lust lives on by double-dealing ; 
Love doth bear the heaviest crosses, 

Lust ne'er counts its victim's losses ; 
Love doth bridle speech and action, 

Lust for law hath no attraction ; 
Love doth pity, breathe compassion, 

Lust doth spurn such kindly fashion ; 
Love doth lavish all protection, 

Lust doth urge to misdirection. 



THE VESTAL 43 

Love disease and woe would banish, 

Lust would make all beauty vanish ; 
Love in use and joy abideth, 

Lust in base indulgence hideth ; 
Love doth give the hearty hand-clasp, 

Lust may give, but with the death-grasp ; 
Love builds homes and makes them brighter, 

Lust its withering chain draws tighter. 
Love is an augel, Lust is a devil, 

Stalking where furious passions revel ; 
Love is the voice that cheers the dying, 

Lust is the coward his victim flying ; 
Love is the sunlight, warm and cheering, 

Lust is the dread flame we go fearing ; 
Love is the hope that cheers the living, 

Lust is the lease that dies with the giving. 
Love is savior and redeemer, 

Lust a fraud — a treacherous schemer ! 
Love doth selfishness despise, 

Last never bloated self denies. 
Love spikenard pours on broken hearts, 

Lust seeks fresh victims for his arts ; 
" Love is fulfilling of the law," 

Lust is a traitor— scorns that saw ! 
Love gives worth, and wealth, and labor, 

Lust robs dearest friend and neighbor ; 
Love is the coin that always blesses, 

Lust is the counterfeit that curses ; 
Love is of home the light and charmer, 

Lust the destroyer, deadly haruier ; 
Love wins sweetly, all devotion, 

Lust makes a hell— a wild commotion ! 
Love yields fruits of the richest flavor, 

Lust wrecked hopes and a rotten savor ; 
Love is the tried and true availer, 

Lust is the lawless vile assaihr ; 
Love doth bloom in happy faces, 

Lust doth lurk in low disgraces ; 
Love may promise, none to doubt him, 

Lust may swear good faith — we scout him ! 
Love i. the freedom time makes stronger, 

Lust is the slavery time makes longer • 
Love doth lead to the noblest teachers, 



44 THE VESTAL. 

Lust doth abhor all faithful preachers ; 
Love doth brave the greatest danger, 

Lust is to courage true a stranger ; 
Love doth unmask the frowning despot, 

Lust in excuse is a senseless bigot ; 
Love doth exalt both man and woman, 

Lust is the foe of all that is human ! 



"AS SHEEP WITHOUT A SHEPHERD." 

Coasting by the solemn seas, 
Some m prayer upon their knees, 
Screened among the wild-wood trees, 
Where the lions on them seize, 
Find we God's own lambs ! 

Climbing mountains wild and high, 
Gazing deeply in the sky, 
Sinking lone, with groan and sigh, 
As they sheared and naked lie, 
We behold these lambs ! 

Pressing through the tangled dell, 
Where the wolves in hunger yell, 
Hunted to the gates of hell, 
Where the oft despairing fell, 
See these panting lambs ! 

Driven through the crowded street, 
With their torn and bleeding feet, 
Little pity do they meet, 
From the priestly mercy-seat — 
Homeless, captive lambs ! 



THE VESTAL, 45 

Tyrants forge the heavy chain, 
Build their towers on fairest plain, 
Harvests hold of golden grain, 
Grown of service, grown in pain, 
By these burdened lambs ! 

Temples rise of royal mould, 
Burnished bright with stolen gold, 
Price of millions meanly sold, 
Choicest of the heavenly fold — 
Choicest of our lambs ! 

Priestly court and equipage. 
Bought by death of saint and sage, 
Blotting life's historic page, 
Crushing with its fiery rage, 
Offers up these lambs ! 

Never once has priestcraft failed 
To claim the offering it has nailed 
To the cross, where it has railed 
At its victim there impaled — 
Passive, bleeding lamb ! 

Never has it victim saved, 
But upon the ages graved, 
Picture of the power it craved, 
Stained with blood in which it laved 
All our dying lambs ! 

Borne across the solemn seas, 
Wafted by the changeful breeze, 
Hear we now angelic pleas, 
Lifting nations from their knees — 
All these fettered lambs ! 

Now, throughout the spacious sky, 
Justice lets her arrows fly — 
Judgment calls from throne on high, 
To each nation far or nigh, 
" Peter feed my lambs ! " 



46 THE VESTAL. 

Lo ! the day drives back the night, 
Men are rising in their might, 
Gog and Magog meet in fight, 
Angels raise the banner, right, 
O'er our wounded lambs ! 

Stars are brighter as they guide, 
Planets swifter as they ride, 
Oceans bolder in their tide, 
Armies firmer, side by side, 
As they free our lambs ! 

Seraphs chant their sweetest lays, 
Systems swell terrestrial praise, 
O the grand, victorious lays, 
Pouring full in sacred blaze, 
On our rescued lambs ! 

Weary, foot-sore, wounded, come ! 
O'er the desert press ye home, 
In our Father's house find room ! 
Youth shall there in radiant bloom, 
Kising from the mouldy tomb, 
Read each tyrant's final doom — 
Saved our snow-white lambs ! 



What is toleration in a true sense? It is a kindly recogniiion of 
another person's honest opinion, though it be radically opposed to our 
own. Any malicious treatment of another, because simply differing 
in opinion, betrays a narrow, selfish and contemptible spirit. 

A due regard for the rights of others ensures confidence and esteem, 
while the reverse of this spirit parts many friends. 



THE VESTAL. 47 



THE DAUGHTER'S REQUEST TO A DYING FATHER. 

Come to me, father, come in the early morning, 

And waken to a riper, richer duty ever ; 
And should a danger threaten, give me warning, 

And arduous coilings of my adversaries sever. 

Come to me, father, when fades out my nooning, 
And sinks my sun adown the evening sky: 

I've passed the weary time, the trial — swooning, 
And now more joyfully my labor-moments fly ! 

Come to me, father, when the sun departing 
Flings back upon my silvered head its generous rays ; 

And call me "Jennie," as in chilhood's gay disporting, 
You gamboled with, and chased me through the olden ways. 

Come to me, father, when the twilight folding, 
Wraps me in silence, in the holy hush of night, 

And then, perchance my spirit eye beholding, 
May gaze upon you with reality's delight ! 

Come to me, father, when the midnight shading 
Holds me in rapt communion with the world I seek ; 

And as my mortal stars grow dim, misty, and fading, 
Meet me, aye, meet me at my new Morn's golden gate ! 



Beware of the slanderer. Beware of the insinuator the mischief 
maker, the envious and revengeful. Beware of him who would give 
you friendship only by the sacrifice of your individuality and your 
principles. It is a dangerous experiment to purchase favor of one by 
consenting to a wrong against another. 



4S THE VESTAL. 



44 HE HAS GONE," 

He has gone to the land where eternity's bloom 
Shall burst on his vison o'er sorrow and gloom. 
With the wealth of his blessing I battle the waves, 
Nor fear I the conflict, or City of Graves ! 

Eor soon I will follow — he rush to embrace 
And welcome me there in that city of peace. 

blessed re-union awaiting the true, 

When this warfare is ended — this journey is through ! 

1 look on this world wrapped in darkness and storm, 
To feel there is sunshine, abounding and warm ; 

I look on its trials, affliction and death, 

As fading and transient — a bubble and breath. 

But out of this fading, and out of this change, 
What wonders surprise me, what mysteries strange ! 
The soul moves triumphant above the prone clay, 
And joyfully enters its Temple of Day ! 

Dear father, thy blessing I hold to my heart ; 

It shall comfort and soothe me when scorn sends his dart ; 

It shall make me defiant when bigots arise, 

And seek to ensnare me, or veil my bright skies ! 

Dear father, I listen, I wait for thy voice ; 

Thou art gone from thy suffering — my soul doth rejoice ! 

And when we shall meet in that mansion above, 

We shall know how unbroken the bright chain of Love ! 



FINIS. 



RELIGIO-PHILOSOPHICAL 8 



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